Let's Make Music Together
by emerald.hunsaker
Summary: Johnny Spirit and Operetta Destler have only just met, but they feel an instant connection. What adventures in love and friendship do these laidback rebels have as they learn more about the world around them and each other? A series of one-shots framing the different aspects of their relationship. Occasional strong language and mature subjects.
"Make it five out of nine."

Johnny raised his fiddle back up to his chin as Operetta spun back around, chuckling at Heath. The sweet twang from the strings melded harmoniously with the resonance from the organ pipes as the two started a lively, upbeat bluegrass tune.

She jumped when the bell to signal the end of lunch rung out, echoing through the dank tomb under the school. Heath somehow immediately recovered from his faint at the sound and sprang up from the floor, dashing out of the catacombs to get to Home Ick, mumbling something about Abbey. Johnny seemed unfazed by the bell. He shrugged and continued playing.

"This isn't over," Operetta warned, starting to stand to grab her bag.

"Hey, where're you off to?" Johnny asked, coolly grabbing her arm before she could go much farther. Her skin was smooth and soft, and his eyes caught her intricate tattoo.

"Where do you think? I've got Dead Languages with Mister Rotter," she replied, twisting out of his grasp and bending down to pick up her books. "Don't you gotta class to go to?"

"Eh, I think I'll slough it," he said, turning his back and lifting his fiddle once more. He decided to test the waters of her obviously large ego. "And I guess, if you're leaving, that means I win the rehearsal space," he taunted. "Unless you wanted to skip class with me," he suggested, glancing back over his shoulder.

He hoped she'd say yes; he really didn't want her to leave. It was interesting to meet a ghoul who appreciated music as much as he did. And she was pretty, to boot. But he kept his face an emotionless stone, not giving anything away. He couldn't let her know the game he was playing.

Operetta dropped her books on the floor with a huge thud. "I ain't the type to give up that easy!" She stormed back over to the organ and furiously began a more "traditional" Phantom family tune, a morose Baroque piece in a diminished minor. Johnny joined in with a melancholy countermelody on his violin, satisfied that he had pushed the right buttons.

As he watched the phantomette focus intensely on the keys and floor pedals, he stepped closer and closer, till he was standing right behind the organ bench. The smell of apples and peaches wafted up from her electric red hair, and he couldn't help enjoying the subtle scent a little. The aroma filled his nostrils and the music filled his ears. He felt something stir within his abdomen, and suppressed his slight arousal.

Operetta gulped as she tried to outplay him. He was the most gore-geous manster she'd ever met, and he actually new what music was. Deuce and Holt were nice enough guys and could tell good music from garbage, but Johnny could _make_ music. And he could make it _with_ her. He was able to match her skill, and though she'd never admit it, he had the potential to surpass her talent. The only other person in the world who could keep up with her was her own father.

That alone would have been enough to quicken her pulse, if her heart were to beat anymore at all. There was a slight warmth spreading through her core as he melded his tune seamlessly with her own, and she was glad to be facing the organ when she felt him come up behind her. Her blush was almost the same color as her hair. She absolutely couldn't show that he was affecting her so.

Operetta finished the piece with a improvised flourish, and Johnny set his instrument on the bench beside her. He felt drawn to her, this incredibly talented phantom. He'd met musically-inclined ghouls before, but none had ever accomplished playing music with this much precision and passion all at once. and decided to try something else. He lowered his head closer to hers and inhaled slowly, starting to rub his translucent hands up and down her arms as he drank in her scent, hoping she would reciprocate the intimate gesture. A small gasp escaped her lips as delightful shivers ran down her spine and she felt his cold breath on her ear. She closed her eyes and started to lean backwards into him when the warning bell rang.

She shook him off, stood back up, grabbed her books again, and started to walk away. She had to pretend that he hadn't fazed her. Her hips swayed as she called behind her, "I guess I've proved my point." She wanted to get away before she found herself studying the individual teeth of the zippers on his jacket or exactly how straight his nose was any further, and was hoping the next class would be interesting enough to keep him from her mind.

Her arrogant comment struck a nerve with Johnny. Never had anyone sassed him like that, and it made him angry. This ghoul was a diva, and she needed to be taken down a peg or two. He needed to put her in her place.

He flew over and blocked the exit. Operetta rolled her eyes and said "What now?"

"This isn't over till I say it's over." He narrowed his gaze on her face. He put his hands on his hips, giving himself a seemingly larger frame, and bent his head down right in her lilac complexion.

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes. Then she realized that she was getting to him and knew exactly how to play him: like an upright bass. "Your playin's mediocre at best, and did you really think you were a match for the daughter of THE Phantom of the Opera?" She smirked and sneered. "I bet that detention of yours weren't even 3,000 years long. The school wasn't founded until 200 years ago!"

The tardy bell rang out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to explain to Mr. Rotter that I'm late because some boorish, boastful, bossy T-Bird wannabe with an inflated ego doesn't know when he's beat."

Johnny Spirit was furious, fuming. When Operetta tried to make a move past him, he turned her, tossed her books and bag to the side and shoved her up against the stone wall, trapping her with both his arms at either side of her. "Nobody calls me a T-Bird!" he hissed. "Those chickens don't even have the balls enough to stand up for their own babes." He spat to the side and a tiny droplet landed on Operetta's cheek.

"Okay! Cool it, James Dean," she chirped, slowly reaching up to wipe the drop away. She was a bit wary of the large guy holding her against a wall and she shifted a little uncomfortably against the rough stone.

He wasn't finished. "Now listen here, you little bi- . . . You little b-" He couldn't get the words out, angry as he was. He couldn't keep his eyes from studying her cherry red lips and what was visible of her birthmark. His mouth and eyebrows twitched soundlessly as he seethed.

Operetta was terrified. She had only meant to annoy him enough to let her go to class without risking losing her catacombs to him. She hadn't meant to stir up violence. And to be honest with herself, Johnny was intimidating when he was actually angry. His chiseled jaw struggled to form speech while his piercing eyes were fixated on hers. But she could now understand why most of the school was afraid of him. He was terribly frightening and incredibly sexy all at once and she couldn't figure out what to do or say next. She wanted to run away from him and devour his mouth with her own at the same time. She felt the heat start to spread again, and she shifted her weight to get a little friction from her thighs.

His temper started to die down as he saw the terror and inner turmoil in her face. She _was_ very beautiful and the most musically-inclined and talented ghoul he'd ever met. She was the type of ghoul he'd always wanted to go steady with (fiery and not taking shit from _anyone_ ), but there had been no one with a personality like hers at Monster High when he first attended in the early 60's.

And now here was this perfect personification of what he'd always wanted right in front of him. And he was holding her against a wall, scaring her, but also subtly turning her on. He could tell no person had ever been so forceful with her, and all of the mansters probably avoided her out of fear of her temper. She secretly wanted to be dominated, and he realized that's exactly what he was doing, without even meaning to. He found a kink of hers, and one of which the phantomette likely wasn't aware herself.

She bit her lip as she looked up at him, obviously scaroused, and in an instant, Johnny decided how he was going to make his cheap manipulation up to her. She would probably punch him, but it was worth the risk. He'd been a douchebag and needed to apologize, even if it was without words.

He lunged forward and caught her lips in a searing kiss. After a moment's surprise, she melted into it, reciprocating as best as she could, but she'd be damned if Johnny Spirit wasn't the best kisser she'd ever met. Well, she was damned anyway, but that was besides the point.

Johnny's hands left the wall behind them and curled around her, pressing his body against hers as his tongue entered her mouth and began to explore. Her body fit perfectly against his. She had curves in just the right places and he couldn't stop his hands from beginning to map them. He couldn't show it, but she was easily able to keep pace with him. Then again, 3,000 years is a long time. Maybe he was out of practice.

Something inside him stirred and he felt his jeans get tighter as she ran her fingers through his quiff, lightly scratching his scalp and setting his nerves ablaze. He hadn't felt this much sensation in his whole death, and maybe his life, too.

Operetta couldn't even think. There were too many wonderful sensations overloading her brain at once: his hands on her hips, his body pressing hers against the rough stone of the cold wall behind her, his scorching tongue plundering the inside of her mouth. Every point of contact was a live wire, sending signals to her mind she couldn't decode and didn't really want to. It was the strangest thing, she almost felt alive again.

Finally, someone had successfully been able to intimidate her, and it had awakened a desire within her she hadn't even known she had. Not to mention he was gorgeous and loved music probably as much as she did. His devil-may-care attitude also was something none of the other mansters at MH had, and something she wanted to explore in more depth.

Her knees suddenly went weak when she felt one of his hands slide over her butt and one of his legs slip between hers. She moaned slightly with pleasure and he pulled back. A little trail of spit hung in the air between their mouths.

"I think you've made your argument quite eloquently," she gasped, chest heaving, her arms locked tightly around his neck. She looked up at him, her lavender eyes a shockingly dark, blazing violet. "Maybe playing hooky with you isn't the worst idea after all?"

Now it was his turn to smirk, wiping saliva from her lower lip with his thumb. He'd done his work well, and was glad his face had not come into contact with a phantomette fist. "I hoped you'd say that," he replied, rolling his hips gently against hers for emphasis. He finally had a new babe in his life and she was into him, too. He silently thanked the universe for her existence.

"Just don't call me nicknames again, and I'll share the catacombs with you, for music and, uh . . . other stuff, if you want. Sound fair?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I think I can agree to those terms," she giggled, excited by the truce.

"Now, where were we?"

Afterwords, they avoided each other for the rest of the day so no one would be particularly suspicious as to why Operetta's top few buttons were undone or her belt was missing. No one noticed that Johnny had the collar of his jacket popped further than necessary to hide his lower neck and combed his hair back too often to _not_ be a symptom of paranoia. Deuce thought he saw the faintest smudge of red lipstick just below the corner of Johnny's mouth, but decided not to mention it to him. Maybe he'd tell Cleo later, if he remembered.

Once the last bell of the day rung, Operetta bolted to the catacombs, which wasn't unusual, but she was walking much more briskly than normal. Johnny had watched her enter and waited a few minutes before following her in.

That day was the first time Operetta had played hooky, but it definitely wasn't the last.


End file.
